


Hurting You

by Yugijayden



Category: shizaya - Fandom
Genre: BL don't like please don't read, Eventual relationship/smut/fluff, I suck at tagging, M/M, Probably a bunch of other stuff, Shizaya - Freeform, Tsundere, Yaoi, bottom izaya, first fanfic, top shizuo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6052009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yugijayden/pseuds/Yugijayden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shizuo is walking home one stormy night after a particularly crappy day when he finds, low and behold, his old nemesis all beat up and stumbling out of an alley. What course of action will Ikebukuro's strongest man take? Who did this to Izaya? And why is Shinra suggesting they live together??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding the Flea

Shizuo x Izaya fanfic

 

Hurting You

 

Chapter 1: Finding the Flea

 

\--somewhere in Ikebukuro, Shizuo’s P.O.V.—

 

                “Dammit, dammit, dammit, **_dammit_** ,” Shizuo Heiwajima cursed under his breath, making his way through the streets of the city he called home, heavy sheets of rain splattering his broad shoulders. He was soaked, pissed off, and tired. Not a very good combination, especially when the person feeling this mix of emotions was none other than Ikebukuro’s strongest…and most temperamental.

                “Screw them. Screw all of them!” he shouted to no one in particular, gazing up at the sky. The stormy night answered him with an equally angry howl of wind, flash of lightning, and deep, guttural rumble of thunder. Shizuo hadn’t _meant_ to throw the vending machine at the young man he and Tom were meeting. It just pissed him off that the kid couldn’t pay his debts and wanted him (a.k.a. Shizuo) to do something about it.

                “Bastard,” he grumbled, feeling slightly apologetic to Tom. Poor guy was probably sick of all of the shit he had to put up with concerning Shizuo’s excessive temper. Well, at least the day couldn’t get worse.

                _Unless I run into the flea_ , said his traitorous inner voice. Just _thinking_ about that damn information broker was enough to get his blood boiling, so it was better to avoid the topic altogether. Unfortunately, fate had arranged it so that Shizuo’s silent plea of solitude as he walked home would be ignored.

                Just as he was about to turn the corner to his apartment, he spotted a small, limping figure staggering out of an alleyway. Shizuo squinted, as the thick, thunder-heavy night air made it hard to see more than a few meters away. Upon further observation (and the light from a nearby streetlight) he recognized an awfully familiar brown fur coat and messy black hair.

                “IIII-ZAAYYYY-AAA!” he snarled, picking up his pace and marching straight towards his hated rival, weary of that silver knife he always carried, despite how the anger clouded his judgement. “I thought I told you to stay out of Ikebukuro?” He expected the smaller man to laugh, say something extremely irritating or sardonic, then perform some unbelievable parkour and make his getaway. That’s what usually happened, anyhow. But for some reason, the flea stayed put, even though he clearly heard Shizuo’s voice. A normal person would’ve been worried, or at least suspicious of Izaya Orihara’s strange behavior, but Shizuo grinned like a shark that’s spotted a bare behind. If Izaya wasn’t moving, fine by him. He didn’t bother to try and comprehend why. The stupid information broker probably had something sneaky up his sleeve. Was today finally the day Shizuo got to end his rival?

                “Got’cha,” Shizuo spat, roughly grabbing his enemy’s small frame from behind and spinning him to face him. That was when he stopped, dumbfounded. No. No way. Those crimson, cat-like orbs that claimed to be Izaya’s eyes were filled with tears. Not malice. Not cruel or brutal amusement. Tears.

                “Shi-Shizu-chan?” Izaya stuttered, eye widening. For the first time ever, the flea looked surprised. He hastily took his arm and, using the bloodied edge of his sleeve, hastily wiped the tears away. His mouth slowly twisted into a cruel sneer, as per usual, but Shizuo felt like something was off.

                “The hell are you up to?” asked Shizuo threateningly.

                “Nothing concerning you, you stupid protozoan,” Izaya snarkily replied, but there was no bite behind his words.

                Shizuo’s eyes traveled down to his enemy’s left leg. The pant leg there was torn off around the knee, and a long, deep gash ran right along the calf. How the flea was even still walking was a mystery. Not that it was any of his business, anyway. Shizuo was about to say something else, but then he saw the various scratches up and down Izaya’s arms, and the drastic amount of blood oozing out of his shirt.

                “…Flea…” he muttered, speechless. Who in the world was capable of hurting him like this? Even during their fights, Izaya always managed to get away with a superficial scratch or something—not a series of serious wounds, like these.

                “Anyways, I’m not in the mood to play, Shizu-chan, so maybe some other time, okay?” said the aforementioned flea, tone taunting, sardonic grin still painted on his face, hiding the grimace of pain that dared to surface. He turned to continue limping away.

                “I don’t think so,” Shizuo growled, hand automatically shooting out to grab his enemy’s wrist, yanking him backwards. Izaya hissed in pain at the sudden movement, and before he knew it, his legs were giving out beneath him. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact of the ground rushing up to meet him. Surprisingly enough, the pain never came, and instead he found himself wrapped in a pair of strong, warm arms.

                Just as Shizuo had seen his old rival start to fall, his body reacted on his own, catching the flea bridal style.

                “Shizu-chan, what do you think you’re doing?” Izaya attempted to kick and struggle, but he only succeeding in further injuring himself. His captor’s toned arms were not budging. “Put me down!”

                Shizuo raised an eyebrow. Normally, Izaya would make some of annoying joke or slash him in the chest with that stupid switchblade of his. But the flea was doing neither of these things. In fact, he almost sounded… _desperate_ to get away.

                “Oi, flea, what happened to you?” Shizuo heard himself ask.

                “I told you, it’s none of your bus—”

                “Well, I won’t put you down until you tell me.” The tall, blond-haired man smirked. It was nice to have the upper hand once in a while. However, Izaya didn’t respond this time. No, he actually seemed _limp_ in Shizuo’s arms. “Oi, flea? Oi…”

                Izaya Orihara’s breaths were shallow, his tiny, skinny chest heaved up and down rather dramatically, and he was beginning to sweat feverishly. An unhealthy type of blush reddened his cheeks, and his unconscious form even managed to take Shizuo by surprise by clinging to the lapel of his bartender uniform. He moaned in pain, and, even while asleep, tears began to flow again. Shizuo brought a hand to his forehead. Yup, definitely a fever, and a bad one, at that. Torn between hate for his enemy and morality, he sighed and murmured, “I’m gonna regret this.” Slowly, Shizuo, Izaya in his arms, trekked through the rainy night right up to his apartment. When he got there, he laid the smaller man down on the couch and flipped out his cell phone.

                “Hey, Shinra? Would you come over here? When? Now. It’s the goddamn flea, Shinra, okay? He’s—No! I didn’t kill him! It wasn’t me! Just get here, okay? He looks like he’s been through hell,” he said, terminating the call as quickly as it had begun.

                When Dr. Kishitani did finally arrive, he was mildly surprised—and amused to no end—to see the once god-like information broker lying nearly dead on his archenemy’s couch. Cautiously, he approached the unconscious, raven-haired man.

                “He doesn’t have his knife on him, does he?” asked Shinra. “I would hate for him to wake up while I’m operating on him and slash me with it.”

                “He doesn’t…I think. At least, he didn’t attack me with one when I picked him up, so I assumed he wasn’t armed,” Shizuo shrugged.

                “No matter, I’ll be taking his clothes off, anyway. That wound underneath the shirt looks particularly nasty.” After a tedious hour of waiting, the underground doctor finally finished cleaning/sewing up his sleeping patient’s injuries and was ready to head back to his own home.

                “Want some tea or something?” Shizuo asked gruffly, noticing his friend was done with his work.

                “Don’t mind if I do, acutally.” The two sat around a small table in the dining room/living room/kitchen, steaming mugs in their hands.

                “So, didja fix the flea up?”

                “Yeah,” said Shinra. “I don’t know what happened to him, but it was bad. Most of the wounds weren’t as serious as they look, except for the large gash to the leg and the stab in the stomach. I stitched everything up and gave him painkillers, so he shouldn’t be in too much hurt when he wakes up. Anyways, he shouldn’t be moving around too much, minus a little walking around his apartment every day—”

                “Wait a minute, why are you talking like it’s _me_ who’s gonna be taking care of him?” Shizuo growled, interrupting the medical diagnosis.

                “Sorry, old friend, but who else would? I know you hate Izaya and all, but could you just stay with him until he’s healed? You could temporarily move into that enormous, empty flat of his and just make sure he’s following the doctor’s orders—in other words, my orders—during his everyday life. I know Izaya. Once I’m gone, he’ll completely disregard everything I said and go reopen a wound or something trying some fancy parkour trick or running from a gang or making a speedy get away from some yakuza,” Shinra sighed. “Please, Shizuo, for me?”

                Shizuo hastily dodged the question and instead inquired, “What about the flea’s fever?”

                “It was caused by a slight infection in that big ’ol slice on his leg. I cleaned it up, though, so no worries there. But moving back a step, Shizuo would you look after Izaya? Not only to make sure he doesn’t worsen his condition, but also because whoever did, well, _that_ ,” Shinra gestured to the unconscious informant, “will probably wanna come back for more.”


	2. Moving in with the Flea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinra finally "convinces" Shizuo and Izaya to live together until Izaya is fully healed. But will the two even make it out of Shizuo's apartment before the claws come out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I've finally brought myself to finish another chapter of Hurting You. What do you guys think so far? Somewhere along the line, once Izaya gets a tiny bit better, I think I'm gonna have a love triangle thing going on between Shizuo and some character I make up, with Izaya smack dab in the middle. Also, I apologize if this update seems a litte late. I've been working on this other fanfiction (Levi x Eren) that I'm getting ready to post, and honestly, I've just been too lazy to haul my fat ass out of bed and start typing. Anyways, I'd love more feedback, and thank you for the people that left kudos on this or commented already. If you have any question regarding the plot, feel free to ask and also, if anyone has any ideas about stuff I should include in this story, I'd love to hear it!

Chapter 2: Moving in with the Flea

 

–Shizuo’s apartment, Shizuo’s P.O.V.—

 

                “So? If someone wants to kill the flea I should be throwing a damn party,” said Shizuo. “Why would I want to care for him…or even help him get better?”

                “Because it’s the right thing to do?” Shinra laughed jokingly, but went serious again after seeing the death stare Shizuo gave him. “Izaya will pay you. I know he will if I can knead him into this. But, as much as he loves to torture you, I doubt he’ll jump at the chance to live with you. After all, he likes his freedom.”

                “I don’t need money,” Shizuo lied, but even he knew the truth. Just one glance around his rundown apartment would tell anybody that he needed a bit of cash.

                “Fine, I’ve no choice but to resort to drastic measures,” Shinra sighed dramatically, whipping out his cell phone. He clicked on a contact and called.

                “Who the hell is that?” Shizuo asked when the person on the other end of the line picked up.

                Shinra smirked, and proceeded to tell whoever was on the phone the night’s recent events, and then stated his proposal. “But I can’t get Shizuo to agree to it,” he whined at one point. “Can you talk to him?” There was a beat of silence, then Shinra handed Ikebukuro’s strongest man the phone. “Here.”

                “Who the hell is this?” Shizuo said immediately, bringing it to his ear.

                “Kasuka,” was the simple reply.

                “Kasuka?!” he exclaimed. Putting his hand over the phone, Shizuo whispered to Shinra, “You are _so_ dead!”

                “Brother, I believe you should look after this ‘Orihara’,” said Kasuka.

                “Why?” Shizuo asked, but his tone was soft and gentle.

                “Because you need the money.”

                “But—”

                “Brother.”

                “Fine!” Shizuo shouted. “Kasuka, if you want me to take this job, I will/”

                “Thank you,” Kasuka replied. “I have to go now. The manager is calling me.”

                “G’bye,” said Shizuo, and he swiftly hung up.

                “Shinra, you’re dead,” he snarled, “but I’ll do it.”

                “I knew your brother was your weak spot!” the underground doctor teased, quickly jumping out of his friend’s reach, for fear of being attacked. “Now I just have to convince Izaya.”

                “Convince me of what?” croaked a familiar voice coming from the body the couch.

                “Ah, Izaya, you’re awake,” Shinra said happly, skipping over to his patient. “How are you feeling?”

                “Peachy,” said Izaya, sardonic grin back in it’s rightful place. “Where am I, may I ask?”

                “Shizuo’s apartment.” The information broker made a choking sound.

                “I-I’m at Shizu-chan’s?” he spluttered. “But why—”

                “Oi, you bastard flea, don’t you remember?” Shizuo said, leaning against the wall. Izaya looked up, as if noticing he was there for the first time. He looked perplexed for a few seconds, but then realization shown clear on his face.

                “Oh,” was all he could say.

                “Well, I might as well be off now. Don’t want Shizu-chan killing me in my sleep,” he laughed maniacally, which was something he did quite often. He made a move to get up, then winced at the pain in his various stab wounds.

                “Don’t you dare,” warned Shinra. “You’re still pretty seriously injured. I heard the last time you got stabbed you only stayed in the hospital one day before running off with some suicidal girl. You’re staying put. Also, I have a bit of a proposition to make.”

                “What is it?” asked Izaya.

                “Well, you see, the thing is, I’m not going to tell you until you agree to go along with it beforehand. And no lying.”

                “Sounds kinda risky,” Izaya told Shinra, lips pursed playfully. “What do I get if I play along?”

                “Entertainment? Come on, Izaya, I know you’re interested.”

                “You know me to well,” said man chuckled. “Okay, let’s flip a coin. Heads I go along with this little proposition of yours. Tails you tell me what it is anyway and I get to decide if I want to.”

                “Deal,” smiled Shinra. He reached into his lab coat pocket and flicked a coin up in the air. It landed on his arm, and then he covered it with his hand, sliding it onto the coffee table within Izaya’s sightline.                 “Awww, heads,” Izaya complained. “Okay, what is it I have to do?”Shinra gave him a glass of water, which he began to sip awkwardly, seeing as he was still laying down.

                “Live with Shizuo in your apartment until you’re healed. Let him be your bodyguard, let him take care of you, and don’t kill him until you’re better.”

                The water came spewing out, splattering Shinra.

                “No way,” Izaya said. “I may like playing with that dumb protozoan, but living with him? I won’t do it.”

                “I recorded our entire conversation on this,” said Shinra, taking out his cell phone once again. “If your clients learn you’re not trustworthy, imagine how much business you’ll be getting.”

                Izaya glared at him. “Tch, fine. But I doubt Shizu-chan will agree to this. Right, Shizu-chan?” His lips twisted into the all-knowing smirk that made Shizuo want to leap across the room and strangle him to death.

                “Too late,” Shinra said cheerily. “His brother convinced him.”

                Izaya looked like he wanted to throw a temper tantrum.

                “Tomorrow, Shizuo’s gonna move into your apartment, ’kay?” said Shinra. “Oh, and you have to pay him for his services.” Before the informant could even respond, he shoved a needle that was hidden behind his back into Izaya’s bloodstream. It was a sedative, and took effect almost immediately.

                “See you, Shizuo. I’ll be checking up on you and Izaya tomorrow, at his apartment,” Shinra said, waving goodbye. Shizuo slammed the door in his face.

                _What the hell just happened?_

—the next day, still Shizuo’s apartment, still Shizuo’s P.O.V.—

 

                BANG! CRASH! Shizuo awoke to those noises coming from the living room. He jumped to his feet and rushed in to see a bandaged Izaya lying face-first on the floor. It appeared that he fell trying to get off the couch.

                “The hell are you doing so early in the morning?” growled Shizuo. He was especially ticked since Shinra had dressed his enemy in _his_ clothes. The white t-shirt and sweatpants were insanely baggy on the information broker and hung off his slim, girlish frame at odd angles.

                “Ha, ha, ha, Shizu-chan caught me,” Izaya laughed weakly, struggling to haul himself upwards. He wasn’t even able to stand well, and ended up falling back on the couch. “I thought I might’ve overstayed my visit, so I tried to escape. Why don’t you just let me go, and forget about the whole ‘living together’ thing?”

                “If Kasuka wants me to do this, I’ll do it, even if I hate it,” Shizuo growled. “Come on, it’s time to get moving.”

                Izaya groaned and glared at him. Shizuo was a little surprised. Usually the flea would have some snappy comeback or retort that would be sure to infuriate him, even when injured, but right now, he just looked too tired to argue.

                An awkward silence fell between the two as Shizuo packed a small suitcase of necessities. Finally, when he was finished, he said, “I’m probably going to have to carry you.” Izaya’s head snapped up.

                “No. Fucking. Way,” he replied, attempting to cross his arms, but the pain in his abdomen made forced him to settle for a prickly glare.

                “It’s not like you can walk, damn flea,” Shzuo pointed out, referencing Izaya’s failed escapade earlier that morning. “Come on.” His words were taut, growl-y, and edged sharper than blades. He had to keep his temper under control. Without giving the smaller man a chance to respond, Shizuo scooped him up in his arms and carried his bridal style out of the apartment, suitcase hanging off one of his arms and digging uncomfortably into Izaya’s back.

                The said informant protested weakly, battering Shizuo’s chest with a frail entourage of limp fists, but it did nothing to dispel the ex-bartender.

                “This is embarrassing,” Izaya snarled, hiding his face in Shizuo’s chest as they walked into the crowded street. “If anybody recognizes me you and Shinra are both dead.”

                “Like hell. In this condition, I’d be surprised if you could hurt a fly,” Shizuo growled back. “But I have to agree with you for once, if anybody caught be carrying the infamous Izaya Orihara, I’d kill ’em dead.”

                “So primal, Shizu-chan. It’s no wonder you’re such a dumb protozoan.”

                “Shut up.”

                By the time the pair finally reached Izaya’s flat, they were too worn out by their verbal banter to say anything else. Once inside, Izaya quickly let go of Shizuo’s shirt and grumbled, “I can walk if you give me a chance, Shizu-chan.”

                “I’d like to see you try,” Shizuo replied. Nevertheless, eager to cease all physical contact with him, he let Izaya down onto the floor.

                The once god-like information broker stood shakily on his own two feet, and took a hesitant step towards his enormous desk, which he had to lean nearly all of his weight on. He inched his way to the swivel chair, and eventually he collapsed on it, chest heaving. That small feat had been both time consuming and requiring a great amount of effort. Shizuo watched the whole thing from the doorway, which he’d been hovering next to once he put Izaya down. Finally the flea glanced his way, as if noticing for the first time that he was there.

                “Oh, Shizu-chan, you can take the couch. No way in hell are you getting my bed, and I don’t have a guestroom for you to sleep in. So~rry,” he drawled in his usual, playful manner.

                “Whatever,” Shizuo grumbled. He set his suitcase down by the couch and sat on it. It was silent for a few minutes, but then the sound of Izaya’s slender fingers on a keyboard filled the room. Driven insane by boredom, Shizuo said, “Oi, flea, what are you doing?”

                “None of your business,” quipped the flea. This only peaked Shizuo’s interest, so he stood up and walked over the computer, looking over Izaya’s shoulder. Files and files of information regarding the citizens of Ikebukuro filled the screen.

                “The hell are you doing with that?”

                “Go away, stupid protozoan.”

                Shizuo felt a vein pop on his forehead. I have to control my temper, Kasuka wants me to do this, he thought, trying to resist the urge to pick up a nearby heavy object and chuck it at the informant.

                “I asked you a goddamn question, bloodsucking flea,” Shizuo said once more, this time his voice sounding more like a growl. Normally, Izaya would’ve chuckled, delighted that he made his archenemy angry. But now, sitting without a knife, barely able to move, in a swivel chair, he felt a pinch of fear press into his abdomen. He struggled not to let it show on his face, though.

                “If you must know, I’m updating my files on the citizens of Ikebukuro,” he finally replied, voice still light and taunting, despite his discomfort.

                “Why you doing that?”

                “I’m _information broker_ , you dumb protozoan. I sell _information_. If I don’t have up-to-date information, I’ll lose clients,” he said. Then, one of his many phones buzzed. It was in one of the desk drawers. Izaya flipped it out and held it to his ear. “Hello? Oh, it’s you.”

                “Who is it?” Shizuo asked, annoyed.

                “Shinra,” grumbled Izaya. “Yes, Shizuo’s here. No, we haven’t killed each other yet. Yes, we’re fine. Getting along? Who do think you’re talking to? Burn in hell, Shinra. Bye~!” He hung up and turned to Shizuo. “I know it’s only noontime,” he said, “but I’m getting some sleep. If I have to put with your goddamn behavior tomorrow, I need all the rest I can get.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...........I kind of didn't spellcheck or edit this chapter before I submitted it, so the writing might not be that great and there's probably a ton of spelling errors, grammar errors, and typos. Please let me know it you see any! Thank you for reading this! Also, like I mention previously, I'd love some plot suggestions! I definitely wanna keep Izaya tsundere and a (hee, hee, hee) virgin (but not for long....*evil/perverted grin*), though.


	3. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically Izaya and Shizuo getting adjusted to living together. That's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys...(well, that's if anyone's reading this) that I haven't updated in FOREVER (A.K.A. two weeks). I've been feeling super guilty about neglecting this fic so I was like oh, what the hell, I'll write chapter 3. Sorry if it's too short!!!!

Chapter 3: The Calm Before the Storm

–still Shizuo’s P.O.V., Izaya’s apartment—

CRASH! That’s the sound Shizuo Heiwajima awoke to the day after he moved into Izaya’s flat. Surprisingly enough, Shizuo was a morning person, despite his temper, and as he rubbed his eyes, gaze darting around the unfamiliar room he’d fallen asleep in, it took him only a matter of moments to put together the pieces. Oh yeah, he remembered. Starting today, I’m living at the flea’s house, until his injuries heal. This simple fact released a stream of curses that bubbled out of his mouth and swirled into the air. CRASH! The curses abruptly stopped as he heard the noise again. Curious, he moved forward to investigate the origin of the noise. Low and behold, it came from his archenemy’s bedroom.  
Should I go in? Shizuo wondered. He really didn’t want to see that nasty, blood-sucking flea’s face first thing in the morning, but all the noise he was making was grating on his (Shizuo’s) nerves. After a moment’s hesitation, he decidedly swung open the door to find Izaya Orihara face-down on the floor. Talk about deja-vu.  
Shizuo couldn’t help himself. It was just too funny. “What the hell are you doing, stupid flea?” he laughed, slapping his knee.  
Now, why Shizuo Heiwajima was certainly a morning person, his counterpart, Izaya Orihara was more or less the exact opposite. Instead of spitting out a snappy comeback, he moved his head and glared daggers at Shizuo.  
“What the hell are you doing in my room, stupid protozoan?” the info broker commented dryly.   
“Seeing why you’re making so much noise,” the said protozoan replied. “Can you even stand up?”  
Shakily, as if to prove him wrong, Izaya worked his way to his feet. The bandages covering the wound to his midriff had come off during his fall, and the stitches had ripped. Blood seeped through his (technically Shizuo’s—the flea hadn’t changed clothing when they arrived at his apartment—) t-shirt. “I can stand,” he said in a condescending tone, despite the fact his knees were about to buckle. Shizuo noticed this and smirked.   
“Really? Why don’t you try walking to the kitchen and fixing us something to eat. I’m starving,” he said, flashing Izaya a wolfish grin. It felt nice to have the upper hand in a verbal battle for once.  
“Why would I want of fix food for you, Shizu-chan? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…I hate you,” Izaya chuckled in an attempt to change the subject. However, this time, Shizuo was not to be fooled.  
“Fine then. Go and make yourself breakfast,” he sneered at the information broker, knowing full well that he was barely able to hold himself up on his own two feet.  
“I’ll pass, thank you. And I usually don’t eat breakfast,” Izaya flippantly retorted with a wave of his hand.   
“That’s why you’re so goddamn skinny,” growled Shizuo. “If you ate something, you might actually manage to put some fat on that stick-figure body of yours. Anyways, you need to take a shower and fix those stitches.” He gestured towards the ever-spreading blood stain that was slowly engulfing the white color of Izaya’s borrowed shirt.  
“Oh, don’t tell me Shizu-chan is worried about me?” Izaya said sarcastically. Then turning serious, he added, “It’s none of your business. I can fix myself up, thank you very much. Go kill yourself or something.”  
“I-ZAAY-AAAA!” Shizu-chan snarled, self-control reaching its limit. He took a deep breath and fought for his voice to come out calm and even. “Fine. You’re going to need my help in the shower, though.”  
“What?” Izaya exclaimed, a slow blush starting over his cheeks. “I’m not a child, Shizu-chan! And I certainly don’t want you seeing me naked.”   
“What’s that supposed to mean—you know what? Never mind. I’m not gonna take the bait this time, you bloodsucking flea.” With that, Shizuo herded the smaller man into the bathroom. “Strip. Now.”  
“I can shower myself,” Izaya protested one last time, his voice practically begging Shizuo to leave.  
“You can’t even tug your—or should I say my—shirt over your head!” he remarked in return. He was tired of watching Izaya struggling to take his clothes off. “Let’s do this the fast way.”  
A surprisingly girlish squeak erupted from Izaya as Shizuo literally tore the clothing off of him, leaving the flea standing in the bathroom naked. On instinct, Izaya blushed and used his arms to try to cover his…nether regions. He winced, though, as the sudden movement sent stabs of pain coursing through his body.  
“Did…did you just squeal?” Shizuo asked incredulously. He casually covered his hand with his mouth as he thought, that was almost kind of cute. Wait, cute?! No, I meant disgusting! Definitely disgusting! There’s no way anyone would consider that horrible, bloodsucking flea “cute”.  
“No,” Izaya grumbled, somewhat embarrassedly. “I just don’t like being naked in front of other people, okay? It makes me feel exposed.” His tiny, pale body shivered due to his apparent lack of clothing.  
“So you’ve never been to a public bath?” Shizuo said in disbelief.  
“No, but then again, that’s really none of your business.”  
The ex-bartender couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Didn’t you ever take baths with your family?” he said mockingly.  
“I have two sisters, dimwit, and there’s no way in hell I’d ever want to be in the same room as my father,” Izaya scoffed. Then softly, almost inaudibly he added, “But there was one person…” A small smile crept up onto the information broker’s face. It wasn’t one of his usual smirks or sneers, but instead an innocent, genuine expression that made one think of small animals and holding hands with a lover. The smile in question, however, small, was nostalgic and almost breath-taking in its own way. Such a smile didn’t belong on the flea’s face.   
For some reason, that expression pissed Shizuo off even more than Izaya’s smirk did. He proceeded to quickly grab his enemy by the ear, resulting in a loud “ow, ow, ow, that hurts, Shizu-chan!” and toss him into the shower. Somehow, even with his injuries, Izaya managed to stay on his feet while leaning all of his weight on the shower’s tiled wall. His ass was facing Shizuo, who was armed with a washcloth and a bottle of shampoo. (He snatched them off one of the numerous shelves in the flea’s bathroom.)  
“Shizu-chan, what was that for?” Izaya asked grumpily, turning to face his reluctant caretaker before realizing he was naked and blushing again. He mumbled, “At least let me do this with a towel on.”  
“Fine,” sighed Shizuo. He tossed him a white towel to tie around his waist. Once said towel was firmly secured, and most of Izaya’s blush was cleared away, Shizuo motioned for him to brace himself on the wall once again so he (Shizuo) could wash his back. As he did so, (and none to gently) he realized never had the height difference between himself and the flea been so apparent. He could kind of understand why he disliked being naked in front of other people.   
Izaya was slightly below average male height, about the size of an adult woman, actually. His body while lithe and athletic from years and years of parkour, however, his hips curved in a way that no man’s body should, and his muscles, while certainly there, weren’t very well-defined. Then, Shizuo noticed something. As he rinsed the suds off the info broker’s back, he saw angry red scars standing out against his vampric pale skin. All sort of horrifying lashes, each one a different length, crawled down his spine, stretched over his shoulder blades and trailed around his torso. Seeing this, the ex-bartender couldn’t help but give a small gasp of surprise. Though, coming from him, it was more like a grunt.   
“Oi, flea,” he started. “What the hell are these marks on your back?”  
Izaya peeked over his shoulder at him. “Nothing much. Just a few scrapes and bruises from our fights. The usual.”  
“Don’t lie to me, flea. Some of these are pretty damn old…Older than when we first met in high school,” Shizuo growled. It wasn’t that he actually cared someone else had the capability to hurt Izaya. He didn’t. At least, that’s what he told himself. He was just pissed because the damn asshole wasn’t telling him the truth. Yeah, that was it.  
“Since when were you a doctor, Shizu-chan? How can you tell,” the information broker replied flippantly. He was smirking, as usual, but something else lingered on his face. It danced in his eyes for a moment…just a moment…and then it was gone.  
“I just can, okay?” he grumbled back. He couldn’t explain it. It was this feeling—this premonition—that most of those horrible scars hadn’t been inflicted by his hand.   
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter, and frankly, my body is none of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think you’ve scrubbed my back more than enough,” Izaya said a little bit more sharply than usual. Still braced on the wall of his shower, he turned to face Shizuo, much more confident now that he was somewhat decent.   
Shizuo wanted to press further, but realized in doing so, he’d most likely end up destroying at least half of Izaya’s flat. He took a calming breath and helped him (Izaya) out of the shower, leaving him to his own devices to get changed.   
By the time Izaya stumbled out of his bedroom, fully-clothed in those tight pants, v-necked t-shirt, and furry jacket he always loved, Shizuo was pawing through the fridge.  
“Shizu-chan, it’s rude to go through other people’s belongings.  
Shizuo simply turned around and said, “How else do you expect me to make myself breakfast?”  
“Fine, fine, I’ll do it, I’ll do it,” Izaya sighed dismissively. Of course, he stood at the top of a rather long set of stairs which led from the upper-story of his flat to his living room, office, kitchen, et cetera. He dubiously inched his way to the first step, clutching the railing for dear life. He knew that with his injuries, the chances of his making it to the kitchen without falling were slim.  
Shizuo noticed his predicament. “Do you need help, flea?”  
“No,” Izaya lied. His sides were already burning just from the effort of standing up.  
Shizuo grumbled something incomprehensible and stormed his way up to where Izaya was standing. “If you need help, just fucking ask for it.”  
“I don’t need help,” Izaya proclaimed stubbornly, though both knew he was just delaying the inevitable.  
Cursing under his breath, Shizuo muttered, “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” and proceeded to scoop the informant up into his arms, then carry him bridal style to the kitchen.  
Normally, Izaya would have protested or make some annoying comment, but for once he stayed silent. He was too tired to bother his reluctant protector/caretaker, and the feeling was mutual. Shizuo himself had spent a long, sleepless night wondering if he would wake up to find himself dead, switchblade buried in his chest or vocal cords carved out of his throat. Yeah, that seemed like something Izaya would do. However, he had to admit, in the flea’s current state, he probably couldn’t move two goddamn meters without collapsing.   
Izaya’s really light, Shizuo noticed. It’s like picking up air.  
Finally, he unceremoniously dropped the flea on one of the kitchen chairs and eyeballed him expectantly.   
After a few moments’ rest, Izaya hobbled over to the stove, shakily retrieved a frying pan from one of the lower cabinets, and managed to get the proper ingredients for an omelet out of the fridge without dropping them. He stumbled backwards a bit, but instinctively, Shizuo caught him by the elbows.  
“Goddamn flea…” he muttered. “Be more fucking careful.”  
“Shut up, Shizu-chan,” was the reply. With a start, Shizuo realized it was the first thing Izaya had said since entering the kitchen.  
“Why are you quiet?” asked Shizuo, still gripping the flea by the elbows and moving accordingly so that Izaya could continue to cook but he (Shizuo) could hold him (Izaya) without him (Izaya) falling over.  
Izaya gritted his teeth. “Because, you stupid protozoan, I’m already exerting enough physical effort as it is, talking, as much as I’d love to have an intelligent conversation, is only going to worsen my current state.”  
Shizuo stayed quiet after that. Finally, finally, finally, breakfast was ready. Two omelets sat warm and waiting on the kitchen counter. Shizuo eagerly dug into his, wolfing down his meal faster than ever before. He hadn’t eaten since yesterday, after all. Izaya, on the other hand, tentatively poked at his food. The way he ate kind of reminded Shizuo of a peckish bird.  
After that, their days in Izaya’s flat went about the same. Shizuo didn’t ask any more questions about Izaya’s past or who it was that had recently attacked him, and Izaya didn’t talk to Shizuo. They stayed on different sides of the apartment, and considering it was so roomy, that suited both just fine. It was about a week into Izaya’s recovery before things really went awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is it? BTWs, I'm suffering writer's block, so suggestions would be great!!!!! I'm in such a good mood bcuz Your Lie in April just got put on Netflix, as well as the 2nd season of Aldnoah.Zero. Maybe that'll encourage me to write more...LOL!


	4. Childhood Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya's childhood friend stops by for a visit. Shit happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Yeah. This is chapter 4. Uh, that's all I have to say for now. Comments, criticism, and kudos would be great!

 

Chapter 4: Childhood Friends

\--Shizuo’s P.O.V., Izaya’s apartment—

 

                It was a normal day. Well, as normal as it got with the Great Fortissimo of Ikebukuro and Izaya Orihara sharing the same apartment. The two avoided contact as much as possible and stayed on separate ends of the flat, which wasn’t too difficult, considering how large and spacious it was. It had been roughly a week, and with an exception of the first day, the pair had hardly spoken more than 30 words to each other.

                Shizuo was reclining on the couch, watching cartoons, and Izaya, being injured and unable to venture outside without assistance just yet, was drawing some information on his computer. This information was connected to his mysterious attackers, which he hadn’t told anyone about. Shinra and Celty peppered him with questions, but to no avail.

                “Shit!” he suddenly cursed, causing Shizuo to look up from his program.

                “Damn flea, quiet down!” he replied angrily.

                For once, Izaya didn’t respond. He looked shell-shocked.

                “Flea?” Shizuo asked again, a bit more of a growl-like edge to his voice.

                Izaya suddenly jerked up from his computer. “Oh...uh…” He took a deep breath and composed himself. “Just watch your stupid cartoon, dumb protozoan.”

                “Izaya…” Shizuo snarled. “What. Is. It?”

                “‘It’ is none of your business,” the shorter man replied in a cold, clipped tone. “Why don’t you go back to your cartoons, you damn, idiotic protozoan? If you’ll excuse me, I have a few calls to make.”

                “To who? And about what?” Shizuo pressed.

                Izaya ran a hand through his already-mussed-up hair. “If you really must know, it’s a bit of information about the mastermind who orchestrated the most recent attack on me. No one Ikebukuro or Shinjuku can help me at this point. No, it’s time for me to contact some old…childhood friends.”

                “Wait, wait, _wait_. Back up a damn second. Mastermind? Most recent attack? You’ve been injured like this before?” Shizuo said.

                “Never quite so badly…but yes. Groups of thugs, gangbangers, sometimes assassins, et cetera. Unless they’re good, I see ’em coming about a mile away, and even if I don’t, as I’m sure you know, I’m not exactly helpless,” Izaya replied, referencing their own fights out on the streets. Shizuo couldn’t help but nod. One too many times he’d been slashed in the chest by one of his (Izaya’s) knives.

                “After these attacks became more and more intense—and more and more frequent—I figured out that they were being arranged by someone or a very powerful group of someone _s_. I’ve been spending a fuckload of time trying to find some connection between the various people after my life. And now, thanks to my extensive information network, I’ve found it,” he continued, looking a bit proud of himself. But, as he went on, that confident demeanor slowly faded away. “Turns out that all of the assassins, the gangbangers, the thugs met with a group of people called the Black Snake Council before coming after me.”

                “Black Snake Council?” echoed Shizuo. “The hell are they?” By this point there was less than a foot of distance between him and the flea.

                “That’s what I’m trying to find out. You know how difficult the Dollars are to pin down?”

                “Yeah.

                “Just imagine that, and multiply it by 10. That’s how hard it is to get to these guys. All I know is that they’re dangerous, and no way in hell am I going to the Awaku-sai for help. No, I need someone I can rely on, someone I can trust to put a stop to all this. And that’s a few people I know from childhood. Heck, I hung out with them up to my teenage years. Kept a secret from Shinra, Celty and the others, which is why you probably haven’t a fucking clue who I’m talking about. They didn’t go to our school, either.”

                “I didn’t know that ‘Japan’s greatest information broker’ had someone he could ‘trust’,” Shizuo spat.

                “Now, now, Shizu-chan. No need to get so riled up. After all, I’m only just—“

                “Don’t. Call me. SHIZU-CHAN!!!” Shizuo roared, preparing to bash his enemy’s head in. Just as he reached for the leg of a nearby table (presumably to throw) Izaya jumped up.

                Now, while it was true Izaya had been healing for about a week, and he was certainly more mobile (as in he could walk around the house, climb stairs, etc.) that didn’t mean sudden movements weren’t painful. His face contorted, but he held his ground. Almost immediately, Shizuo let his arms drop to his sides.

                “Oi, flea, you okay?” he asked, voice still trembling in barely-restrained anger.

                “Oh, just peachy,” said flea managed to gasp out, clutching his side. He hobbled to the couch Shizuo used to be sitting on and flopped down upon it. As the hurt slowly eased, he reached lazily into his pocket and pulled out one of his many, many, _many_ cell phones.

                Sensing that their conversation was over, Shizuo took a peek at the informant’s computer. At least 15 different windows were opened up. Articles, databases, the works. Already bored, he turned back to Izaya, who was now making his oh-so-important call.

                “Hey, it’s me…I’m kind of in a bit of a bind…” He paused and giggled. _Giggled_. Like, a cute giggle. Shizuo rapidly shook his head, clearing his mind of such treacherous thoughts.

                “Touché. Fine, I admit defeat! I’m…uh—and please don’t get mad; It’s really not a big deal—I’m a little injured. No, that’s not all. I’m tied up with a group called the Black Snake Council. Okay, okay! What? Tomorrow? You don’t have to get here so fast—you’re bringing the guys? Well, it will be a little fun, seeing as we haven’t seen each other since our high schools days. Yes, yes, someone’s already looking after me. Who? You know the doctor friend I told you about before we part ways. Yeah, him. He coerced both my caretaker and myself to stick together. We don’t really have a choice. See you tomorrow, then. Tell the guys I love ’em! Bye.” The flea hung up, grinning happily, hugging the phone to his chest like a child would a toy.

                _“Tell the guys I love ’em,”_ mimicked Shizuo in an unnecessarily high voice. “Who the hell were you talking to?”

                Izaya flushed and looked away. “I told you, my childhood friends. Now, piss off, or do whatever brutes like you do on a glorious day such as this. I have to get back to work.”

                And so the day passed once more like any other thus far. Shizuo ignoring Izaya, Izaya ignoring Shizuo. Night came and after taking turns in the shower, they both retreated to separate ends of the apartment to sleep.

                Both awoke the next morning to a ding-dong coming from the door. Izaya blearily rubbed his eyes, still in his pajamas (an over-sized white t-shirt, much like the one Shizuo once lent him and sweatpants so baggy they hung low on his slender, feminine waist and practically puddled at his bare feet) as he made his way to the door. He carefully checked the eyehole before opening it. As soon as he did, though, his eyes lit up with excitement, just as Shizuo stumbled off the couch and found his place behind the informant.

                “Who is it?” he snarled.

                Izaya ignored him and flung the door open, rushing into the arms of a man Shizuo didn’t recognize.

                Said figure was tall—barely an inch shorter than Shizuo himself, with creamy, mocha-colored skin and flashy gold eyes to match. His hair was a deep brown that could only be described as milk chocolate, and his facial features were strong and handsome. Though there was no way this newcomer was as strong as Shizuo, he definitely worked out. And it was those same, muscled arms that scooped Izaya up off his feet, grasping him tightly around the waist, spun him around once, then gently lowered him to the floor.

                Shizuo took in the man’s clothing. He wore a denim jacket, and a white tank top that showed off his muscles, plus a pair of faded jeans. Countless necklaces and earring and bangles flashed in the sunlight, kind of making him hard to look at. Almost immediately, Shizuo realized that this man pissed him off almost as much as the flea.

                “José! It’s been a while,” Izaya laughed, feet firmly planted on the ground once more. He gestured to the unfriendly, growling entity (Shizuo) standing just behind him. “This is my reluctant caretaker, Shizu-chan.”

                Shizuo’s eyebrow twitched. Were those two close enough that they used each other’s names without honorifics? For some reason, that bothered him. And, you know, Izaya called him _Shizu-chan_.

                “Shizu-chan, meet my childhood friend, José,” Izaya said, interrupting his thoughts. “Speaking of which, where’s everybody else?”

                “They’re coming. I just got here a little earlier,” José replied. He smiled down at him fondly, but then his expression turned serious. “Why don’t we go inside and talk about how exactly you got hurt.”

                Izaya nods, that giddy, genuinely happy smile dissipating from his girlish face. “Shizu-chan, why don’t you join us~? I’ll bring both you and José up to speed on my current…situation.” A wry smirk flitted over his features.

                “The hell would I want to know, flea?” Shizuo growled back as said flea’s companion made his way inside the house and plopped down on the couch.

                “Because~” Izaya said cheerfully enough, “you’re stuck with me until I’m all healed up. And during that time, I might be attacked. And, since you’ll be in the vicinity, and are associated with me, there’s a pretty good chance that they’ll come after you, too. Wouldn’t you rather know what you’re dealing with before it comes? Or are you too stupid to comprehend the idea of _strategy_?”

                “Izaaayyyaaaa…” The growl built itself up in Shizuo’s throat before he could stop it. Regardless, he sat on the opposite end of the couch than José. Both men eyed each other with suspicion as Izaya perched on the coffee table in front of them.

                “You and this Shizuo fellow don’t get along to well, do you?” José chuckled, breaking the uneasy silence.

                “Nope. Shizu-chan and I chase each other throughout Ikebukuro. I throw knives, he throws stop signs. And vending machines. And sometimes vehicles,” Izaya replied flippantly, waving his arm in a dismissive gesture. “He’s the strongest _monster_ I know.”

                A vein popped on previously mentioned monster’s forehead as he wrestled for control of his temper.

                José’s eyes widened at that. “You two attempt to kill each other?”

                “Yup~”

                José rolled his eyes. “Oh brother. You just can’t resist taunting the most dangerous person you come on, can you?”

                “Nope~”

                “Okay, tell me about the guys you’re mixed up with now. These Black Snake Council people,” José said, changing the subject.

                Izaya frowned a little at that. Swinging his feet, he replied, “I was hoping you’d know more about them than me. For once in my entire life, I don’t know what’s going on. However, I do know my problems are…serious. In my condition, as much as I hate to admit, I’ve come to realize that there’s no way I can defend myself properly against a serious threat to my life. José, you know I wouldn’t call you if the situation wasn’t grave. So if you know anything about the Black Snake Council, anything at all, you should probably tell me.”

 

                “I know, I know,” the man agreed, nodding. “I wish you’d ask for help more often. And I lied, okay? I do know a bit more about the Black Snake Council than I was letting on.”

                “So I figured. Why?”

                “Just testing you,” José teased, his voice rich with laughter and a natural, warm Spanish accent. “It’s been ages; I wanted to know if you were as sharp as ever.”

                “Idiot,” Izaya said affectionately, making a small fist with one pale, slender hand and bonking him (José) on the head with it. “Now, please fill me in about these assholes that call themselves a council.”

                According to José, the Black Snake Council was a large gang that operated mainly in America, which was why no one in Japan seemed to know about them. Even so, they lied suspiciously low for years, gathering more and more members until they silently, secretly became stronger than even the largest syndicates. The past few months is when they began making their presence known. The Black Snake Council, at this point had smaller, branch groups in almost every country, Japan not excluded. Apparently, when Izaya arranged for several different gangs native to Japan to knock out another, larger gang in the area called the Diamondbacks, he was actually wiping out the entire Black Snake Council’s Japanese branch in disguise. Even though the Diamondbacks were only a small, sub-group of the Black Snake Council, it was the branch that handled most of the Council’s drug dealings. Therefore, Izaya managed to take out an enormous chunk of the Council’s profit. Since he wasn’t expecting the Diamondbacks to have any dangerous ties (a serious slip-up on his part, which José berated him for) he (Izaya) didn’t bother to hide the fact he was the one responsible. This, in turned, incurred the Council’s wrath. The main branch of the group headed down to Japan almost immediately to take care of the problem. They didn’t want to make their presence known, though, so they decided to exactly what Izaya did to them: send several sources to wipe him out. But unlike Izaya, they sent their assassins and mercenaries after him one at a time. But attempt after attempt failed, and finally, the main branch lost patience. They sent even more guys then usual the last time.

                Izaya explained that he’d been at a bar, talking with Shiki from the Awakusu-sai. He’d pulled a nearly a week of all-nighters beforehand for some unknown reason (Izaya wouldn’t explain why, no matter how hard José pressed) which made him a little sloppy. Shiki gave him a drink that was a wee bit stronger than what Izaya originally ordered, and since –“Izaya, you’re a bad drinker, you know that! Why the hell were you at a bar, anyway?”—according to José, he was a little tipsy when Shiki drove off and left him by himself to walk home. That was when he was ambushed. Lethargic from lack of sleep, and dizzy, nearly sick from drinking, Izaya was easily jumped, beat up, and left for dead by the thugs the Black Snake Council sent. Their parting words were, “We hear you got some siblings, I-za-ya. They’ll be next.”

                Izaya reluctantly explained that was why he was crying when Shizu-chan found him—he was worried about his sisters. Plus, you know, everything hurt like hell. He often acted like he didn’t love his siblings because his job as an information broker was dangerous, and if people knew he cared about them, they could become targets. Once the men were gone, Izaya hauled himself off the ground and tried to limp on home, and, well, the rest is history.

                “They’ll probably be back once they realize I’m not dead,” Izaya finished, “and as you can see, I’m in no condition to fight. I screwed up once, and this is the price I have to pay. So, José, you know I really hate to ask this, but…will you help? I don’t mean to drag you into anything but…”

                “I understand,” his childhood friend replied.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. I NEED PLOT SUGGESTIONS! I have a general idea of where I want this fanfic to go, but I'm sorta suffering from a severe case of writer's block! If anyone out there is reading this...HELP!!!!!!!! Also, sorry updates are so far apart. I'm kinda a lazy bitch but hey, what can I say? Lazyitis is a chronic disease. It prevents me from putting effort into almost anything and hard work is fatal.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first official fanfiction. Ever. Therefore, all feedback, good and bad, will be useful. When critiquing my work, be as forceful and unapologetic as you need to be. Don't sugarcoat your words. I can take it if it'll turn my shitty writing into something great. Also, I make a lot of spelling/grammar/etc errors, so informing me about those would be awesome, too. Thanks for reading my first chapter! If you have any suggestions, let me know. I'm not really sure where this story is going yet. I'll try to be good about updating and all that, but no promises! ;p


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